Saw This Coming
by Jemasbeeky
Summary: Candy Fanfic! Cartman and Wendy have always hated eachother. But somehow, she's the one person in South Park that Cartman can't control...
1. Never Nothing To Fight Over

***NOTE: You can check out my deviantArt account under the same name as here for full descriptions and bleh that go along with the chapters, plus I do some crappy fanart and whatever. And I upload new chapters there first so yeah if you want I'm really active there so yeah :'D I hope you enjoy this pointless story.

"And therefore, the internet was the greatest thing ever invented." Kyle concluded his and Stan's presentation, and Stan quickly added, "Besides medicine."  
They were about to walk back to their seat but were given a hand signal to wait a second by MR. Garrison as he noticed Wendy raising her hand impatiently from the far side of the front row.  
"Yes, Wendy," Mr. Garrison called without enthusiasm. She straightened, even more, in her seat before answering.  
"Um, I'm sorry Stan but medicine wasn't invented; it was discovered in the tropical ranforest," she said matter-of-factly. This pissed off Eric Cartman, and he didn't bother raisning his hand from his seat in the back of the class.  
"Nuh-uh, ho! Just the -ingrediants- for medicine were discovered in the rainforest, but then research had to be done so they could make it useful, so it -was- invented!"  
"No!" she denied, now just as heated.  
Wendy and Cartman were the two smartest and outspoken kids in the class, so these intellectual arguments broke out often. (Really Kyle got very good grades as well, but he tended to be more quiet in the classrom.)  
"The early people didn't need to alter the plants and herbs to get the same reviving effects!"  
"Some hippie nature healing does NOT count as medicine," Cartman countered.  
Just then, the bell rang signalling the end of History. Stan had reamined silent at the front of the class, watching wearily as his friend and his girlfriend fought. Stan and Wendy had gotten back together two years ago. They've had an off-on relationship since they were in third grade, and they were both now juniors in South Park Highschool. Stan was 17, Wendy 16.  
Everyone filed out of the classroom but Kyle, Stan, Wendy and Cartman lingered where they were.  
"See you later, Stan!" Kyle called with a wave before exiting the room. Wendy stood and approached Stan. Cartman hovered by his seat, his packing paused so he could peer at the couple.  
"Stan...?" Wendy looked up at him cutely; Cartman gagged.  
"Yeah, Wends?"  
"Can we hang out today after school?" she asked, hopeful.  
"Sorry, I can't," Stan stated simply. Wendy pouted.  
"Why not?" she whined.  
"I already told Kyle that I would go over his house after school so we could practice for baseball." Both Stan and Kyle were members of the Cows Baseball Team.  
"Oh... Ok. Have fun," Wendy plastered on a smile for Stan's benifit but he didn't notice.  
"Kay, bye Wends!" And he was gone from the classroom. Wendy heaved a painful sigh.  
"Stood up again, ho?" Cartman said without menace as he approached her from the back of the class.  
She didn't answer, only pursed her lips.  
"Don't you think its weird that your boyfriend would rather play with some guy's big wooden stick than be with his crazy-hot girlfriend?"  
"Shutup, fatass."  
"No, I'm seriously. If I were you, I would dump his homo ass."  
"Lets just be glad that you -aren't- me. You would ruin my life."  
"And I'd have fun doing it, too." Cartman grinned when he saw the smile crack on Wendy's face, glad to have gotten her out of her Stan-induced slump.  
"Oh, for God's sake, scram!" shouted Mr. Garrison.  
Wendy jumped and scrambled out with her head down. Cartman followed suit to his next class of the day.


	2. It Only Makes Sense

After school was student council. Since Wendy and Cartman were the only ones ever elected President in their homeroom, they were the class representatives. As expected, Wendy and Cartman had a heated argument over the topic of the meeting: Art Appreciation. She said art was an important part of youth culture. Hesaid it was for pot smoking hippies with paintbrushes and jews looking to make a quick buck. This back and forth went on until finally the meeting was dismissed. The student council President, Heidi, had finally had enough.  
Wendy recieved a text as everyone sluggishly started to file out to their cars. It was from Wendy's best friend, Bebe.  
*WENDY, FINALLY GOT THE COURAGE TO ASK TOKEN IF HE NEEDED A RIDE HOME FROM TRACK! U CAN FIND ANOTHER RIDE, RIGHT? PLEASE DON'T HATE ME, LUV U 4EVR- BEBE*  
WEndy read it twice to make sure she wasn't mistaken. Then a third time.  
"I'm gonna kill her...," Wendy growled under her breatth. Bebe had her liscense becuase she was 17 while Wendy still had a few months to go. She usually gave Wendy rides from student council and debate club because Bebe ahd a very demanding track and field practice schedule; her long legs had been proven quite useful for somthing other than mini skirts after she was discovered by the coach.  
Wendy cursed loudly and shoved her phone into her pocket. Maybe she could catch a ride with Annie... She rushed outside of the empty classroom and found dissapointment before her.  
She had apparantly spent more time inside than she origionally thought; the parking lot was almost empty, besides a few cars she knew that belonged to teachers. She turned to right with disdain. It was only a few miles from her house... Taking one last chance to scan the parking lot, she started towards her house in a huff.  
A hand clamped down on her shoulder and she was spun around before she could blink.  
"Where do you think you're going, ho?" Cartman.  
"Whats it to you, fatass?" she jerked out of his grip and began to turn away when he let out a frustrated mixture between and sigh and a growl.  
"Don't you, like, have a ride?" he mumbled, not willing to look directly at her.  
"No..." she said hesitantly. "Bebe bailed on me last minute. Why?" She asked, suspicious.  
"Well, you can't just walk home! I mean, you'de probably get picked up by all sorts of perverts, being dressed like a hooker and all."  
Wendy looked down at her skirt and sweater ensamble.  
"Anyway, I have a car... and you obviously don't... so why don't you quit your bitchin and come on," Cartman said, his logic totally making sense to only him.  
But Wendy sighed, "Guess I don't have a choice, do I?" she conceded. "Where's your car?"  
"Damn straight you don't," Cartman grinned. "Back there." He gestured over his shoulder with his thumb. Wendy looked unsure since he was pointing in the opposite direction of the parking lot.  
"Back there," she repeated, dubious.  
To confirm her anxieties, Cartman spun on his heel and began to walk around to the back of the school.


	3. Happy Without Anybody

There were no more parking spaces behind the school, Wendy noted, but there was a community of brick apartments across the street from where the school property ended. And there, the only car the in the parking lot for the apartments, was a shiny, vintage red mustang. She assumed this was what Cartman was talking about when he said he had a car.  
She had to admit, it was a sweet ride.  
"Why do you park all the way back here?" Wendy wondered alloud.  
"I usually sit in my car and listen to music for a while before school starts," he explained. "I'd rather not be bothered, if you know what I mean."  
Wendy grimaced. She did know. It was always a madhouse in the school parking lot in the mornings. She tried to avoid it usually, while Bebe and Stan and the rest of her friends sat on the hoods of cars with bad music blasting, throwing around footballs or whatever. She had been dragged there on more than a few occasions, and could totally relate to wanting a moment of peace before starting the day. She even respected cartman for discovering this secret sanctuary nestled away in the bare limb trees.  
Cartman could tell from Wendy's faced that she got it, and the fact that they now shared this small thing was more satisfactory than it probably should have been.  
He unlocked his car and got in the drivers side, leaning over to push open the passenger side door in invitaion for Wendy to get in. She did as instructed, putting her purple canvas bag at her feet as Cartman tossed his bag into the back. He started up the engine and cranked up the heat, muttering somethiing about freezing his balls off.  
He glanced over at Wendy, sitting somewhat awkwardly with herhands crossed over her lap as she peered around the car, probably looking for something she could use to exploit him, he thought. Sighing, he leaned over again to open the glove compartment in front of her. He pulled out a plump case of CDs and placed it on her lap before sifting into reverse and backing out of the lot.  
"Pick whatever," he said simply.  
Wendy opened up the case to find an impressive collection of disks. She skimmed through the cover art.  
Deciced, she pressed eject of the dash board and placed ina CD from her favorite band without a word. It was sort of unnnerving that he liked all the same music as her. She looked over to see his reaction to her choice as the first song start playing. He seemed suprised but pleased at her selection, tapping his finger along with the drums.  
He looked really serene at that moment, Wendy thought. It was a good look for him.  
"Wehere do you live, ho?" Cartman broke her out of her trance, bringing her back to the reality that Cartman was an unsenstive pig.  
"Make a right here," she inclined foward with her head, crossing her arms and loooking out the window.  
Cartman made a right and glanced at her grumpy form.  
"What's up your ass?" Cartman asked.  
"You are. Now make a left."  
Cartman was confused but turned left.


	4. Some People Are Just

After Cartman had made the turn, Wendy noticed something peeking out of the still ajar glove compartment. She leaned foward to see better; it was a worn sketchbook, about as thick as her wrist.  
"What's this?" Wendy asked, reaching for the book as Cartman tried to snatch it away from her.  
"Dammit, Wendy! Thats private and shit!" He growled, causing the car to swerve as he dove for it once again.  
"Don't like art, huh?" she mumbled, flipping though the pages. She stopped on one picture, more detailed than the other sketches of random peices of nature and buildings.  
It was a girl, frozen mid-laugh, with long raven and blueish-violet eyes. Wendy stared at herself as though it was her own reflexion. Stared back at the exact curv of her eyes, her mouth. There was so much detail... even the exact color that her cheeks got when loaded with hot blood.  
But then the car came to a screeching halt and Wendy was thrown foward against her seatbelt as the book was ripped from her hands.  
"Cartman...," Wendy whispered. "You're... so talented!" she exclaimed, completely oblivious to the significance of Cartman having a beautiful picture of Wendy drawn in his sketchbook.  
Seeing this, relief flooded throughout him.  
"Whatever, just don't touch my stuff, ho."  
"No, I'm serious Cartman, you're amazing!" She didn't notice his blush and kept going. "Wait, why the hell did you just make that big argument against art if you... unless this isn't even yours! That's it Cartman, who did you steal this from?" She was outraged by the thought of him stealing the work of someone so talented.  
Cartman let some time pass before answering, mostly because he didn't think it would be ideal to scream at Wendy in this situation.  
"I didn't steal anything, bitch," he said through his teeth. But then he had that evil grin back. "And I said I hated art to piss you off. Totally worth it."  
"She frowned and punched him in the arm. They were aproaching her house.  
"This one," she said, pointing to an olive green two story ranch house. In one of the upstarirs windows, there was a veil of fuscia curtains.  
"Figures," Cartman muttered.  
Cartman pulled up in her empty driveway. It was getting dark, and none of the lights were on in the windows, Cartman noticed.  
"Um... thanks, Eric." Wendy sat there uncomfortably for a second pulling her bag up onto her lap.  
"Will you... be alright alone?" Cartman asked, peering around her neighborhood for creepy guys, which was ridiculous since it was a pretty safe neighborhood and the streets were deserted.  
"I'll be fine. Uh, sorry about what I said. I didn't really think you stole it," she lied.  
Cartman decided to ignore the obvious bullshit she was feeding him. "Yeah, ok, whatever. Get out of my car, ho."  
She got out but leaned in through the open door. Cartman couldn't help it when his eyes flicked to her clevage peeking out from her dark sweater...  
"Thanks, Cartman. Really. See you at school tomarrow, okay?"  
"Yeah," he stuttered, looking away. Wendy she shut the door and looked back at him still sitting in his car before walking into her dark house. Then she listened for his tires screeching away and out of her driveway before moving away from the door.


	5. Nothing To Do With Anything

The next morning, when Wendy enetered her homeroom class, she was determined to avoid eye contact with the fatass. But, much to her dismay, he wasn't there for her to ignore. Bummer, she thought, taking her normal seat next to Bebe. She was so preoccupied with her thoughts that she had forgotten that Bebe had ditched her for Token, and Bebe decided not to bring it up if it would save her an earfull.  
"Hey Wendy," Bebe leaned over towards her best friend. "Did you do the science work yesterday?"  
Wendy snapped out of her trance to give the blonde an annoyed look. "Do you ever do your own homework, Bebe?"  
"Only when I -really- have to. And I don't as long as you're doing it for me! So waddya say?" Bebe looked up at Wendy with pleading green eyes, batting her lashes like a sad puupy dog. (Or more like a lollita, Wendy thought.)  
Wendy sighed. "Yeah, guess so. Let me see it."  
"Thanks Wendy! You're the best!"  
With five minutes left until the bell rang signalling the start of class, Wendy ttok out a pen and began Bebe's homework.  
"Wait..." Wendy stopped after the third question, regaining her memory. "You -ditched- me!"  
Bebe was sheepish, but not really remoresful looking. "Yeah, sorry about that. But you know I like Token! And it was totally worth it, because you will not believe what we did in my car, Wendy..." Bebe trailed off, seeing the murderous look on the brunette's face. She decided to move away from the subject of how NOT sorry Bebe was. "So, how did you end up getting home?"  
For some unknown reason, this question caused Wendy to blush and jsut then, Cartman came walking into the room. Wendy's plan to ignore him flew out the window and they locked eyes. But Satn was right behind him, telling him to move his fat ass.  
Yikes, Wendy thought, she had totally almost forgotten about her boyfriend in her quest to NOT think about Cartman. She needed to get a grip.  
"Wendy?" Bebe asked, worried by her friends current state. Then she turned her head to follow Wendys gaze and saw Cartman looking right back in their direction. Realization hit. "It wasn't... Cartman, was it?"  
Wendy looked over at Bebe with a pleading look that said, 'please don't tell anyone'.  
Bebe nodded her head as the teacher called the class to attention.  
In their school, there was no seperate class for home room and first period; it was their teacher's duty to both take attendance and teach. First period history happened to be one of Cartman's favorite classes of the day. And it had nothing to do with the fact that it was the only class he shared with Wendy. Nothing at all.  
"Ugh, I need more copies of this paper," spoke up Mr. Garrison from the front of the class. "Which two of you retards will be least likely to flunk if they miss the next ten mintues of class... Wendy? Eric? Get your over-achieving asses up here and do me this favor."


	6. I Regret Writing This Chapter

"Goddammit..." Cartman muttered under his breath as he swung out of the seat he had just reached in the back of the room. Wendy looked just as unhappy about having to run an errand with Cartman. She shot Bebe a fathomless look and Bebe gave her a consoling one, like 'I'm so sorry for your loss'. It was actually pretty funny how Wendy and Bebe could have whole conversations with eachother without saying a word. And also scary, Wendy thought. There were no secrets between the girls; Wendy had even told Bebe about that one time in elementary school when she had a crush on the very boy she was now walking down the hallway towards the copy room with.  
Wenady glanced over at Cartman's towering figure to see him doing the same thing as her. Cartman really had stopped growing out and started growing upwards one they went into highschool. He'd lost alot of his excess blubber and was now just... filled out, in a weird sort of way. Tall and sturdy. But, why did Wendy care? Of course she didn't, was the answer, she told herself. Of course she would preffer lanky boys like Stan...  
But Cartman didn't try to deny his attraction to Wendy. He had admitted it to himself a long, long time ago. Everything about her was perfect in his eyes; there was no question. But why in the hell she had to rant about how terrible it was for girls to exploit themselves and then go wearing a microscopic skirt was beyond Cartman. It just made things so much harder on him, when trying to keep his affections a secret and also maybe pay a scrap of attention in history class. But that din't stop him from getting an A: he was an evil genious for God's sake!  
As Wendy was trying to recall all of the reasons she definately preffered Stan to Cartman, she of course slips on a flyaway piece of paper lying on the floor, falling backwards. There was a solid thump as her head smacked against the cold, hard floor.  
"Jesus!" Cartman rushed over to lean by Wendy's side, then tried to stop her as she attempted to sit up. "No way, Wendy. Don't even think about sitting up: you could have a confussion or something!"  
In all of Wendy's groggy glory, she said, "But then who's gonna get Mr. Garrison's papers...?"  
"You just break your entire freaking head open and THATS what you care about." Cartman said, dubious. Her voice was so tiny, Cartman thought. So much different from her usual opinionated loud mouth-ness. Her eyes were rolling back in her head and Cartman thought that maybe it was time to abandon his origional plan of keeping her where she was until help came.  
"Ok, up," he instructed, reaching an arm behind her shoulder to pull her into a sitting position. Then, seeing she was in no postion to keep herself sitting and that being upright had not caused her to pass out or anything, he hooked and arm under her knees and lifted her in his arms.  
He just brought her over to sit against the lockers but she seemd to be slipping from consciousness. And sniffling. And... burying her head in Cartman's chest. He could barely stand it.  
He placed her down against the lockers. She looked up at him with glassy eyes and he all but sprinted to the nurse's office, trying to run before he did something that he'd regret.


	7. The Next Chapter Will Get Back On Topic

There was no way in bloody hell Cartman was going to go back to class after he told the nurse where Wendy was. Way too frickin close for his comfort. I mean, she was dating Stan for Jesus' sake! And lord knew that he might have been a lot of bad things, but he wasn't about to freakin kiss his bro's unconscious bitch. And that's really all she was: Stan's girlfriend. Nothing more, nothing less. All that Cartman's little crush was turning out to be was a ginormous pain in the ass.  
If there was one thing that Cartman had learned over the years, it was how to totally and completely forget about all of his problems. After ducking out of the school building, he headed down to Patch's Liquor.  
Cartman's mom's latest boyfriend own the liquor store about a half mile from school: prime location to reel in underage business. But Cartman wasn't interested in getting drunk. He had a secret hangout (yes, another one) under the store.  
In actuality, it was more of an evil lair than a hangout. The basement of Patch's had been his go-to place after his mom had officially kicked him and his shit out of their basement. She said she needed the space for -recreational- purposes. Cartman gagged just thinking about it.  
He walked around to the back of the pale robin's egg cinderblock building and found a rusty old tornado shelter entrance leading strait to the basement below. He bent down and retched open the squeaky door with a bit of effort, making a note to bring oil the next time he came.  
It was dark, but Cartman was used to it. He moved stealthily towards the middle of the room and reached up to tug at a worn string. The lights sputtered on.  
Cartman looked around fondly at this place that had become his greatest ally. In the back, a wall full of filling cabinets; this is where he kept on his blackmail. Pictures, videos, documents and taperecordings of almost everyone he knew. He personally had three whole cabinets filled up with dirt on Kyle. Stupid Jew didn't know how to hide his personal life. There was his brother Scott, the teachers at his school, his friends' parents.  
The only person in South Park that he couldn't find anything on was that damned Wendy Testaburger. As far as he knew, she had no dark secrets to speak of. This idea infuriated him, not only because this was ruining his resolve not to think about her, but because it ruined his credibility as an evil bastard. If anyone ever found out that he didn't even have a way to threaten Wendy Testaburger, people might stop fearing him. He had to admit, it was a long shot, but it wasn't a risk he was willing to take: he had to dig up something on Wendy, and fast.


	8. NOT a Stalker

The next day at school, Cartman was walking down the hall after third period, trying to mind his own bussiness as he passed by Wendy with Bebe at her locker. She looked up at him expectantly... He didn't make eye contact as he walked right past the two stunned girls.  
She turned around to face him as he walked away.  
"Cartman," she called. Nothing. Sighing, she gave Bebe an apologetic look and started off after him quickly. She was trying to match his long-legged pace but ultimately failing.  
"Wait up, fatass!" she yelled, grabbing his arm. He turned around to face her, an unfriendly glare on his face.  
"What do you want, ho?"  
She wasn't about to back down from his animosity; she met his glare with one of her own.  
"Where are you in such a rush to get to?"  
"Fourth period?" he said it like it was obvious.  
"You never go to gym..." she mused, uncertain.  
He peered at her, just as weary. "What, now you know my whole schedule?" Then he smiled. "Oh I see how it is... you're STALKING me! I always knew you were obsessed with me," he teased.  
Wendy blushed, in spite of herself. "Am not! I just so happen to have fourth period gym with you, which you would know if you ever bothered to show up!"  
"I don't need to play any faggy volleyball, I'm ripped. Which I'm sure you've already noticed, stalker hippie." His grin was huge now, and he was on the verge of laughter.  
"I am not stalking you, you sadistic nazi jerk!"  
"At least I don't sit around and smaoke pot with my emo lesbian boyfriend!"  
"How does that even make sense?"  
"Hey, both of you, get to class before I write you up!" A stray teacher patrolling the hallways shouted to them.  
Both Wendy and Cartman looked around bewildered to see that the hall was empty. Well, empty except for Butters, who was trying to sneak behind the teacher to get to class. When he saw them looking at him, he held a finger to his lips as if to shush them.  
"What do you think you're doing, Butters?" Cartman shouted, pointing behind the teacher for exxagerated effect.  
"Hey!" The teacher yelled, turning on his heels. "Mr. Stotch, this is the fifth time you've been caught roaming the halls after class this week! I'm going to have to inform your parents!"  
"Aw, hamburgers..." Butters bowed his head, defeated. That was until hysterical Kenny came running from the direction Butters had come from and threw the small blonde over his shoulder. Butters let out a surprised squeek as Kenny rushed himself away from the teacher.  
"Hey! Stop right there!" The teacher shouted n fury, running after them with his fist in the air.  
Wendy and Cartman simultaneously turned their heads to look at eachother.  
"What... what just happed?" Wendy asked, bewildered.  
"I have no fucking idea, but lets get out of here before he comes back." With that, Cartman grabbed Wendy's hand and started running in the opposite direction.


	9. Goth Kids Are Magic

They ran into the cafeteria/auditorium, quietly rushing past a lazy janitor with headphones on. Cartman jumped up to stand on top of a lunch table near the edge of the stage in order to boost himself up, still towing Wendy. They ran across the stage which conveniently held an exit to the side of the school. They both made a run for the door and when they were met with fresh autumn air, they stooped to catch their breath.  
"What… the… fuck…," Cartman huffed. Wendy didn't say anything so Cartman glanced over to see that Wendy was looking down at her hand… which was still being held by Cartman.  
"Oh, um..," Cartman said uncomfortably, letting her hang go. "Sorry 'bout that, ho."  
"It's fine," she said, looking confused. Then she looked up at him for the first time. "Thanks for, um, getting us out of that."  
"Don't mention it."  
They straightened up and began walking around to the back of the school.  
The four goth kids in South Park were leaning on the wall by the side of the school with their cigarettes perched between their fingers. One was a senior, two were juniors, and one freshman. Neither Wendy nor Cartman could ever tell if the freshman was a girl or a boy, due to the short hair, lipstick and baggy black clothing. Cartman made a particularly disgusted face at the tall senior: his curly hair and big nose led Eric to be about 99% sure that he was a jew, even if he did worship Satan or whatever gay stuff the goths believed in.  
"Whoa, dude," the heavy girl who was junior along with Cartman and Wendy said. Wendy was pretty sure her name was Henrietta. She continued to speak, purposely excluding Cartman and Wendy. "It's the girlfriend of that kid who used to hang out with us."  
"You're right," said the other junior, with red hair streaks.  
"Yeah, and she's totally sneaking around with some other conformist guy."  
"How infidelic," squeaked the freshman.  
"Maybe now he'll realize how much it rocks to be goth once he's dumped by his whore-," The curly haired goth said monotonously.  
At this point Wendy was as red as a beet and just as she was about to punch in his big nose, another fist flew into his face. She looked over and saw it was Cartman. And although he went for a more discreet swing to the jaw, unlike Wendy's aim to his nose, she was still touched by the gesture.  
The other goths didn't seem to mind that their friend had just been put in his place; they were bored as usual.  
The goth kid got up off the ground, rubbing his jaw and muttering. A thin line of blood came from the corner of his mouth.  
Wendy looked questioningly to Cartman. He shrugged and proceeded to walk past her, to the back of the building like nothing happened.  
Something that goth fag had said was bothering Cartman. That Cartman and Wendy were sneaking around… being infidelic… The very thought that Wendy would be cheating on Stan was almost laughable, especially with Cartman. But… if he could get her to cheat on her long-time boyfriend, that could be just the blackmail he's been looking for. At least that's what he told himself.


End file.
